Read the poem and answer the questions below in paragraph form with no less than 100 words per question and post to the Discussion Tab.
1. What kind of image is silent swinging?
2. What feelings do you get from this poem as a whole? Would you agree with someone who said "This poem gives us a sense of happy, carefree life down on the farm, close to nature"? Exactly what in "Reapers" makes you feel the way you do? Besides appealing to our auditory and visual imagination, what do the images contribute?
To post your response, click on the Discussion Tab at the top of the page, paste in your essay/response and click post. Then everyone can read all the responses; I can read and grade, and everyone can respond to at least two people in the class in no less than 150 words. Reapers
By Jean Toomer
Black reapers with the sound of steel on stones
Are sharpening scythes. I see them place the hones
In their hip-pockets as a thing that's done,
And start their silent swinging, one by one.
Black horses drive a mower through the weeds,
And there, a field rat, startled, squealing bleeds,
His belly close to ground. I see the blade,
Blood-stained, continue cutting weeds and shade
Writing Assignment:
Read the poem and answer the questions below in paragraph form with no less than 100 words per question and post to the Discussion Tab.1. What kind of image is silent swinging?
2. What feelings do you get from this poem as a whole? Would you agree with someone who said "This poem gives us a sense of happy, carefree life down on the farm, close to nature"? Exactly what in "Reapers" makes you feel the way you do? Besides appealing to our auditory and visual imagination, what do the images contribute?
To post your response, click on the Discussion Tab at the top of the page, paste in your essay/response and click post. Then everyone can read all the responses; I can read and grade, and everyone can respond to at least two people in the class in no less than 150 words.
Reapers
By Jean Toomer
Black reapers with the sound of steel on stones
Are sharpening scythes. I see them place the hones
In their hip-pockets as a thing that's done,
And start their silent swinging, one by one.
Black horses drive a mower through the weeds,
And there, a field rat, startled, squealing bleeds,
His belly close to ground. I see the blade,
Blood-stained, continue cutting weeds and shade